


joining up the dots

by Batman



Series: jaywalkers [9]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, noya gets a special mention for his alimentation preferences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 00:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6729712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batman/pseuds/Batman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Told ya, Yuu. I’ve been here tons of times, they don’t keep that shit.’ </p><p>‘I <i>know</i>,’ Actually-Shorter-Than-Her-san snaps, ‘I’ve been here <i>with</i> you. I just thought they might have new stuff on the menu or something.’ </p><p>‘Um,’ Hitoka says, ‘w-we do have some new smoothies—’</p><p>‘Fuck smoothies,’ Mohawk-san says, then immediately widens his eyes and puts a hand to his mouth. ‘Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to swear. Shit.’ </p><p>Today in jaywalking: Terrifying Customers, study sessions and Yamaguchi Tadashi's problematic hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	joining up the dots

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [соединяя точки](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12201621) by [named_Juan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/named_Juan/pseuds/named_Juan)



> LIKE I SAID I PLAN TO UPDATE. A LITTLE. A LOT. 
> 
> I feel like I should get a few shirts printed with "I'M SORRY YACHI" in this "Curlz" font that I used to be very fond of back in the day. I mean, when I was 12 and you could set font styles on Yahoo messenger and I had this kind of blue-green gradient on mine. I don't know how I have any friends.
> 
> (Title from "Little Things" by One Direction. Like I said, I don't know how I have any friends.)
> 
> Featuring butane torch enthusiast Yaku Morisuke.

The Two Boys From The Photoshoot are here again. Well, by again she doesn’t mean to say that they’ve really been to _Le Petit Peach_ before, or at least not during one of her shifts, because if they would’ve visited during one of her shifts she would totally have remembered them. What she means to say is she’s, well, _seeing_ them again. For the second time, which is, if she’s not being too rude, already one time too many for her wellbeing. And of all times, they chose the one when neither Kuroo-san nor Himuro-san are here, to be tall and calm where she is short and very, very far from calm on the best of days— she wishes that Bokuto-san could be here with the Beautiful Saturday Person but his birthday party is the very reason Kuroo-san and Himuro-san aren’t around, and well, she was invited to the party but she had to decline because not only would there be tall boys, but they would be tall twenty-year-old boys, along with those two beautiful girls from the dance faculty that Hitoka can’t really remember the faces of since she usually never dares to look above their shoes.

Leaving her to face the Two Boys From The Photoshoot alone is not the nicest thing to do, but it’s not like the others could have known, and anyway, she has very, very reliable backup currently kneading dough in the kitchen. She guesses that if anyone is capable of handling the Two Boys, it will be Yaku-san with his habit of brandishing the rolling pin and on more dangerous occasions, the butane torch. (There have been incidents, none that she’s witnessed personally, and she’s honestly glad about that because she’s not sure how much she could take the concept of a deliberate redhead waving a butane torch around and screaming profanities. Apparently he singed Bokuto-san’s eyebrows off on one occasion. Hitoka  _doesn’t want to know_.)

‘H-h-hello,’ she says, putting on her best smile. ‘Can I help you?’

There are, as she has established, two of Them. Of the two, Actually-Shorter-Than-Her-san (which is saying something, because she thought the only human being on campus shorter than her was Hinata, but this Boy will put Hinata’s worries to rest) steps forward and shoots her a grin that still makes her surprised that the lower part of his face hasn’t fallen off already. It is a very, very wide grin, and she remembers it from last time. She also remembers, and is reminded of, the six thousand piercings he has on his face. She doesn’t mind a single one of them— well, maybe number four hundred and thirty two near the eyebrow could use a silver hoop instead of a black one— but they do serve to accessorise the grin very…sharply.

‘Any chance you keep, like, lollies here?’ Actually-Shorter-Than-Her-san says. Just hearing his voice again brings back the very vivid memory she has of him leaning his elbow on her shoulder and _leaning forward_. ‘You know, like the ice candy stuff? You know, on a stick?’

‘A stick,’ Hitoka repeats. ‘I’m sorry, w-we don’t really, uh, keep sticks.’

He actually looks very sad, and Hitoka is so, so sorry. ‘Oh man! Y’all don’t have, like, a slush machine or something? You know, with the crushed ice?’

’S-s-since summer’s over—’

‘Told ya, Yuu.’ Hitoka snaps to attention and sees that Mohawk-san is finally looking up from his phone. His mohawk, she remarks again, is simultaneously the scariest and most attractive thing she’s seen after The Ponytail— which, which absolutely does not mean that she finds The Ponytail _scary_ , well, it’s not like she would like to imply that she finds it attractive either which renders the comparison useless, but anyway, her point is that the mohawk is very scary but also very attractive, as is the entirety of Mohawk-san, actually. ‘I’ve been here tons of times, they don’t keep that shit.’

‘I _know_ ,’ Actually-Shorter-Than-Her-san snaps, ‘I’ve been here _with_ you. I just thought they might have new stuff on the menu or something.’

‘Um,’ Hitoka says, ‘w-we do have some new smoothies—’

‘Fuck smoothies,’ Mohawk-san says, then immediately widens his eyes and puts a hand to his mouth. ‘Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to swear. Shit.’

‘Who’s swearing in front of the damn child?’

The Boys’ faces darken just as Hitoka's heart lightens.

‘Yaku-san,’ they mutter in unison, and Hitoka has quite a few questions about the tone of their voice but keeps them to herself. Instead, she turns around to face the hero in question: Yaku-san with his angry face and the pink apron that looks so hideous with his hair that Hitoka sometimes can’t stand to look at him for more than five seconds (well, that holds true for most people, though).

‘I was hoping to acquire ice cream on a stick,’ Actually-Shorter-Than-Her-san says finally, after clearing his throat. ‘It has been brought to my attention that such an item does not exist on your menu.’

‘Nope,’ Yaku-san says. ‘My apologies on Kuroo’s behalf, but could we get you anything else?’

‘Well,’ Actually-Shorter-Than-Her-san says, leaning forward with a slightly terrifying glint in his eyes, ‘it’s like, it’s so hot today, right? And I just have this _intense_ craving for a slushee. Like, basically the coldest, kind of sourest slushee you could make? With lime and like, I don’t even care, cayenne pepper or wasabi or something, something to give it that _zing_ , you know? And some strawberry syrup or something? I mean I know this is specific, but y’all were the closest place to walk to.’

‘She said they don’t have a slush machine, Yuu,’ Mohawk-san says.

‘I know, but I mean they could take a rolling pin to some ice, you know?’

Hitoka gets very good pay for the hours she puts in at this cafe, and objectively, she knows that it might almost be more than others usually would get. Kuroo-san is a brilliant manager-who-is-the-owner’s-son, and an equally brilliant baker, apart from being a brilliant human being in general, and Izuki-san, when he is not attempting to ask her out to a movie by the way of a pocketbook of jokes, is actually one of the nicest people around too. She loves working in a sweet cafe like this one, with all its clean kitchen equipment and decor that she gets to pick out and flexible hours, and many times, she also enjoys the company of some of their regulars. However, there are some occasions when she really thinks about all the choices that led her to working at _Le Petit Pompom_ , and regrets them keenly. This is one of those occasions.

Yaku-san has been staring at Actually-Shorter-Than-Her-san for the better part of a minute, in absolute silence, leaning over the counter. Finally, he straightens up.

‘You need a lot more of God than we have in stock,’ he says.

 

●●●

 

The evening’s study session is one that she knows is going to be with Tsukishima-kun and Yamaguchi, since Tsukishima-kun decided, like her, that his semester would be off to a safer start if he decided to pass up on Bokuto-san’s party. Having them around actually makes Hinata and Kageyama more manageable, even though it brings issues of its own (mainly Tsukishima-kun’s inability, after four years of apparent comradeship, to empathise with _Hinata’s_ inability to understand English homophones). For strictly those reasons, she’s looking forward to it, and anyway, Yamaguchi actually succeeds in keeping everyone quiet though she’s not sure how he does it, and even though she’s always been comfortable with Hinata and Kageyama, having Yamaguchi there somehow manages to put her even more at ease while still flustering her, which she thinks could very well be the effect of The Ponytail— but it’s not like it really matters; after all, they’re all getting together to study and cook and eat at inappropriate hours.

As Hinata tells her about some kind of hug-related career that he’s considering, she remembers that Tsukishima-kun’s birthday is actually coming up, so she plans to ask for his size even if it’s such an obvious thing to do; she’s half-sure that he doesn’t really care about birthdays and things like that, but she’d love to give him something all the same, or at least cook something for him. Hitoka might not talk _so_ very much with Tsukishima-kun, but she does consider him a friend and a very kind one at that, even if he spends half his evenings sneering at Kageyama and the other half looking condescendingly upset about the academic abilities of those around him. It’s one of those things she doesn’t think much about, like how the mere idea of Yamaguchi stepping through the door with the afternoon sun behind him can make her smile much wider than it usually is.

‘You’re all spacey today,’ Hinata says, waving a hand in front of her eyes, and Hitoka jumps a little, and clears her throat. ‘Something happen at work?’

‘I don’t know if you know, um, do you know…’ she absolutely can’t remember anything specific about the Two Boys From The Photoshoot, and doesn’t think _Yuu_ will be very helpful. ‘Tsukishima-kun knows them, I think! Two boys came in asking for, uh, sticky ice cream. Ice cream sticks.’

‘In fall?’ Kageyama snorts as he pulls out his notebooks. ‘That’s something.’

‘One of them was shorter than you, Hinata.’

‘NO WAY.’ Far from offended, which is good because it wasn’t her intention, Hinata is intrigued. ‘DID HE HAVE PIERCINGS.’

‘A whole bunch!’

‘THAT’S NOYA-SAN. NOYA-SAN ASKED FOR STICKY ICE?’

‘Sticks,’ Hitoka corrects gently. ‘And, well, he—’

‘—and honestly, he’s got some nerve,’ she hears in Tsukishima-kun’s annoyed voice from the corridor. ‘You know I don’t lose my goddamn graphs, Tadashi.’

_Tadashi._

The already-ajar door swings open and as always, Tsukishima-kun steps in first. And by now, Hitoka should already be used to the _déjà vu_ that comes with seeing Yamaguchi step in after him (mainly the way a roaring sound always fills her ears), but well, honestly speaking, she’s not.

She only hopes that she’ll remember to ask Tsukishima-kun his size.

 

●●●

 

Yamaguchi Tadashi is having trouble keeping his hair out of his eyes. Honestly, Hitoka has been in the middle of the terrible phase where the hair’s too short to tie up but too long not to get in the way, and she learned after a lot of squinty eyes and ticklish foreheads that one simply had to keep supplies handy at all times. And really, it’s just because of that that she feels so much sympathy for Yamaguchi Tadashi— it has only to do with the memories of being in that phase and nothing in the least to do with the way he keeps frowning and biting his lower lip as he tucks his hair out of the way again and again.

To her right, Hinata’s working on some mandatory history reading, groaning out loud every now and then when a particularly obscure war name appears on the text (she’s guessing it’s that, by the abundant usage of her pink highlighter on the sheets). To her left, Tsukishima-kun is leaning against the wall with his knees drawn close to his chest and a book too thick to be balanced on knees, balanced on them. It looks red and scary and she wants none of it, because she is a design major and likes to work better with programs and colours than she ever would with dense blocks of text unless it’s for word-processing. Next to Hinata, Kageyama is quite concentrated on his own history reading, although with nothing highlighted at all, which is perhaps more alarming than Hinata’s pink mess.

Across her, Yamaguchi Tadashi, bending over a textbook even scarier-looking than Tsukishima-kun’s  is, is having trouble keeping his hair out of his face. Hitoka, for once, shushes her inner ramble and cuts to the chase: she cannot stand someone so determined to study, being unable to do it.

It’s less consciously thinking of the solution and the actions and executing both than it is pure instinct; she’s already reaching into her bag before she registers the idea, and pulling her hand out before she registers reaching into her bag, and placing it on the glossy pages of his textbook, retreating before she registers _anything_ , really.

She notes with dismay that she picked out the bobby pin with the maximum number of flowers that a bobby pin could possibly have, but it’s already too late; Yamaguchi is turning red and picking the pin up between the the tips of the nails of his index and thumb, as if it’s a…a…dragonfly, or something. Hitoka can hardly hear anything over her heart in her ears.

Yamaguchi clears his throat softly, and Hitoka refuses to look up from her laptop because she knows he’s not looking up from his book, and honestly, that works just fine with her because she just wanted him to get his hair out of the way so that he could get back to studying in peace, and she’s actually glad that he’s not saying anything. When she dares to take a quick glance, the little pink and purple flowers are sitting pretty a little before the crown of his head, his bangs in an inexperienced puff above his forehead.

It’s incredible.

Her fingers flying over the keyboard make the only sound for the next moment or so, until a loud snort interrupts them.

Hitoka pauses her fingers and looks out of the corner of her eye. That was absolutely uncharacteristic, and she thinks Tsukishima-kun realised it himself after he did it, because he’s not looking up from his book either but the amusement is very, very clear on his face.

 

●●●

 

He doesn’t take the pin off throughout dinner, and after that, too, when the sun has long since set and they’re parting for the night. Hitoka has big plans for Sunday; she’s going out with her classmates for lunch and then working on some logos, and then it’s early to bed; Monday brings an 8 AM class.

In the doorway as Tsukishima-kun reluctantly gives her his size— she remembered, after all, so there’s that to buy when she’s out as well— she watches the streetlight catch on the black metal under the plastic flowers in his hair. He has an inkstain on his chin and many more on his palms, she’s sure.

‘I’ll be leaving, then,’ Tsukishima-kun says, and she thinks she can still see him smiling a little, but that might be the streetlight.

At the base of the stairs, Yamaguchi turns to her and smiles and waves, and Hitoka is suddenly struck by how very _tall_ he is. He could look ridiculous, standing so tall with his hair done up so messily, but he doesn’t, not to her, and looking at him gives her the same kind of quiet cheer that being with Kageyama and Hinata gives her, and she thinks that he could very well join Hinata in whatever hug-related venture he was talking about earlier. Hitoka's too small for hugs, maybe, but his smile feels like one anyway. No one’s too small for smiles, or friendship, or wasabi slushees or hug-related business enquiries or purple-flowered bobby pins.

It’s been a good day, after all, really, and Yaku-san didn’t even pull out the rolling pin.

‘Can I keep it?’ he asks, and she nods before he’s done. ’T-thanks.’

‘I-I could, if you— I have ones with butterflies too.’ She can _hear_ Tsukishima-kun laughing from somewhere on the campus. Honestly, she can hear _Mohawk-san_ laughing from somewhere on the campus.

Yamaguchi tilts his head, and Hitoka has doesn’t always really feel laughter this giddy bubble up in her throat so she lets it out. It’s just a small giggle but it grows a little bit louder when he grins, and then she’s hiding her mouth with her hand and looking at the ground to have something to look at.

‘Only if you let me walk you home,’ he says, and Hitoka stops laughing slowly, and then she lowers her hand, and then she tucks her hair behind her ear. Yamaguchi waits. ‘M-maybe. I mean…’

‘All right,’ she says. ‘That…that’s…all right.’

**Author's Note:**

> IF YAMAGUCHI WITH A BOBBY PIN WITH FLOWERS DOESN'T PUT AN IMAGE IN UR HEAD I DON'T KNOW WHAT WILL
> 
> Again (and always) [Ksenya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fyolette) is out there saving my ass and blowing me kisses while doing it. 
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/soldierpoetking) and [Tumblr](http://sturlsons.tumblr.com).


End file.
